InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Drabbles and Babbles ❯ Hair of the Dog ( Chapter 4 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Wheezambu 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.31.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 948 | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.31.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 948 | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Completed
He hated his hair.
A young hanyou boy sat in his dead mother's garden and counted the stars, whispering their names to himself as he waited. The moon was rising slowly over the treetops, taunting him with its fat, unconcerned smile. He was leaving tonight. He'd already made up his mind. In a way, he'd always known it would come down to this. He supposed he should thank them for making the decision so easy.
Moonlight creeping over the shadows seemed to make his hair glow from within, a silvery radiant mass. He lifted a few strands, letting them slide through his fingers. Whitest white in the daytime, it was almost blue in the shadows, turning silver and glittering in the sunshine. It had the texture of raw silk and he hated everything about it.
“Mama, why is my hair white and not black like yours?” a very young Inuyasha had asked once.
Izayoi had smiled at her son. “You have your father's hair, just like you have his eyes. You're every bit as beautiful as he was.”
Beautiful or not, he still hated being so obviously different from the others. “Nobody else here has white hair except the old people. Why am I so different, Mama?”
She knew. She knew what her people thought of her son, knew what the other children called him when they thought she couldn't overhear. It angered her, but more often it just brought tears to her eyes, knowing her child would always be an outsider wherever he went.
“It is because you are so very special,” she whispered into his hair, sweeping the little boy into her arms and holding him tight. “You are different because you are destined to be more than they are, more than just ordinary.”
He didn't know what she'd meant by that, he only knew that his hair was one of the things that set him apart. When he remembered, he kept his fingers curled slightly so that they wouldn't notice the claws as easily. He couldn't hide his eyes, but he found it was easier when he didn't meet the gaze of the others. Easier not to see the loathing in their human eyes, the contempt and fear that told him what he really was.
Hanyou. Half breed. Tainted and unclean.
His hair was the hardest thing to hide. He'd often thought that if he'd just been born with normal colored hair, he could at least blend in. The ears, however, they were what they were, soft white triangles that marked his dog-demon heritage so effectively. When he remembered, he made a conscious effort to keep them flat on his head. It was difficult at best and anyone who knew him knew what he was hiding anyway.
The fangs were easiest to conceal. As long as he kept his mouth shut, nobody had to see them at all. If he could ever kept his mouth shut. That was harder than keeping his ears flat.
He'd tried to dye it a couple of times. The slippery silver strands wouldn't absorb whatever stain he tried to use, instead returning to their glossy whiteness after only a few hours. He'd cut it off once, using a rusty old blade that someone had discarded in the kitchen's trash heap. That's how he'd found out that his hair would grow back overnight, it was every bit as stubborn and rebellious as the hand that had shorn it away.
He couldn't get away from what he was. He was the son of a dog demon and his hair was the hair of a demon as well.
At least, Inuyasha thought, watching as the sky as grew brighter with the full moon, at least he could get away from here. His mother would have been dead for five years this summer and nothing about this place still reminded him of her. He would leave with nothing but the clothes on his back.
And one single treasure he kept close to his heart.
Reaching under his clothes, he pulled out the soft package that meant so much to him. It was all he had left of his mother, they'd taken everything else away, stripped her rooms of everything within hours of her death. An animal like him didn't need comfort, he could sleep curled up on the hard floor. At first, he'd wondered why they let him stay in the room at all. Eventually it dawned on him that no human could ever be quite comfortable in a place where a demon child had slept.
He wondered if they'd ask a priest to bless the floor now that he was leaving.
Carefully, he unfolded the scrap of fabric and looked at his treasure. The long ebony strands had been glossy once, over the years they had become dry and dull. He stroked them anyway, raised them to his nose to inhale a faint whiff of her smell. It was all he had left, the only thing worth taking from this place. There was no reason left for him to stay.
Inuyasha folded the battered square of fabric and tucked it back into his clothes. The wall around her garden was tall, but it was nothing to him. He could have jumped over it anytime he wanted. And right now, tonight, he wanted to.
He was ready to leave.
A young hanyou boy sat in his dead mother's garden and counted the stars, whispering their names to himself as he waited. The moon was rising slowly over the treetops, taunting him with its fat, unconcerned smile. He was leaving tonight. He'd already made up his mind. In a way, he'd always known it would come down to this. He supposed he should thank them for making the decision so easy.
Moonlight creeping over the shadows seemed to make his hair glow from within, a silvery radiant mass. He lifted a few strands, letting them slide through his fingers. Whitest white in the daytime, it was almost blue in the shadows, turning silver and glittering in the sunshine. It had the texture of raw silk and he hated everything about it.
“Mama, why is my hair white and not black like yours?” a very young Inuyasha had asked once.
Izayoi had smiled at her son. “You have your father's hair, just like you have his eyes. You're every bit as beautiful as he was.”
Beautiful or not, he still hated being so obviously different from the others. “Nobody else here has white hair except the old people. Why am I so different, Mama?”
She knew. She knew what her people thought of her son, knew what the other children called him when they thought she couldn't overhear. It angered her, but more often it just brought tears to her eyes, knowing her child would always be an outsider wherever he went.
“It is because you are so very special,” she whispered into his hair, sweeping the little boy into her arms and holding him tight. “You are different because you are destined to be more than they are, more than just ordinary.”
He didn't know what she'd meant by that, he only knew that his hair was one of the things that set him apart. When he remembered, he kept his fingers curled slightly so that they wouldn't notice the claws as easily. He couldn't hide his eyes, but he found it was easier when he didn't meet the gaze of the others. Easier not to see the loathing in their human eyes, the contempt and fear that told him what he really was.
Hanyou. Half breed. Tainted and unclean.
His hair was the hardest thing to hide. He'd often thought that if he'd just been born with normal colored hair, he could at least blend in. The ears, however, they were what they were, soft white triangles that marked his dog-demon heritage so effectively. When he remembered, he made a conscious effort to keep them flat on his head. It was difficult at best and anyone who knew him knew what he was hiding anyway.
The fangs were easiest to conceal. As long as he kept his mouth shut, nobody had to see them at all. If he could ever kept his mouth shut. That was harder than keeping his ears flat.
He'd tried to dye it a couple of times. The slippery silver strands wouldn't absorb whatever stain he tried to use, instead returning to their glossy whiteness after only a few hours. He'd cut it off once, using a rusty old blade that someone had discarded in the kitchen's trash heap. That's how he'd found out that his hair would grow back overnight, it was every bit as stubborn and rebellious as the hand that had shorn it away.
He couldn't get away from what he was. He was the son of a dog demon and his hair was the hair of a demon as well.
At least, Inuyasha thought, watching as the sky as grew brighter with the full moon, at least he could get away from here. His mother would have been dead for five years this summer and nothing about this place still reminded him of her. He would leave with nothing but the clothes on his back.
And one single treasure he kept close to his heart.
Reaching under his clothes, he pulled out the soft package that meant so much to him. It was all he had left of his mother, they'd taken everything else away, stripped her rooms of everything within hours of her death. An animal like him didn't need comfort, he could sleep curled up on the hard floor. At first, he'd wondered why they let him stay in the room at all. Eventually it dawned on him that no human could ever be quite comfortable in a place where a demon child had slept.
He wondered if they'd ask a priest to bless the floor now that he was leaving.
Carefully, he unfolded the scrap of fabric and looked at his treasure. The long ebony strands had been glossy once, over the years they had become dry and dull. He stroked them anyway, raised them to his nose to inhale a faint whiff of her smell. It was all he had left, the only thing worth taking from this place. There was no reason left for him to stay.
Inuyasha folded the battered square of fabric and tucked it back into his clothes. The wall around her garden was tall, but it was nothing to him. He could have jumped over it anytime he wanted. And right now, tonight, he wanted to.
He was ready to leave.